


Color The Sky

by bioticbooty



Series: Crosshairs 'Verse [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, Fluff and Angst, PTSD, Sad Ending, survivor's guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4573269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbooty/pseuds/bioticbooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate wouldn't be so cruel as to bring about a second slaver attack, destroying everything Shepard had built up since the first, would it? It would - and that day would later become known as the Skyllian Blitz. Set in the Crosshairs 'Verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I'm sorry. Second of all, I'm sorry. Third of all, if you keep reading after all these apologies, you've got no one to blame but yourself. And I'm still sorry.

The buzzer to Olivia’s quarters aboard Arcturus rang three times, each ring more impatient sounding than the last. She’d _hoped_ not answering the first time would have sent the unwanted visitor packing, but it appeared as if that was not the case. Olivia flung her cleaning rag onto the coffee table and gently set Henry’s parts down before shoving off onto her feet and opening the door.

Lieutenant Glenn Delgado stood at the entrance, hanging off the frame. “Heya Sparks, mind if I come in?”

“Yes.”

“Charming,” he pushed past her into her apartment and Olivia sighed as she followed him into her living room. “Just got word from Boomer - shore leave’s been pushed back two days. Some Alliance meeting shit and debrief we all gotta attend before the Brass gives us the all clear.”

She grunted in disapproval. “Why wouldn’t he just send a memo to the team?”

“Oh, he will,” Slip flung himself onto her sofa, staring at nothing in particular. Olivia awkwardly shifted on her feet, not used to entertaining or having people over in general. And not entirely sure why Slip had felt the need to personally deliver the news. “I just got the word from him myself, thought I’d swing by and give you the heads up. Wrecker told us you actually had a proper vacation lined up.”

Kass _would_ do that. Between Kelila and Kassy, she’d practically had no choice in the vacation matter as the two women had teamed up against her. Though she’d never have chosen _Elysium._ That was Kelila’s destination of choice. Something about beaches and a proper night life with grit. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. She understood the beaches, but with Kelila, ‘grit’ usually meant something Olivia might not actually want to do or visit.

Yet she’d been suckered into it anyway. Ah, well.

“Yup.”

Slip didn’t call her out on her terse reply, nor the length of time it’d taken her to issue a simple ‘yup’ - and that caused her to frown. A little furrow of the brow as she moved across the room and took a seat on the stool near her workbench where she could really look at him. He was the one always pushing her to open up, just a little bit more. Pushing her buttons, drawing her into conversations. But never so much he forced her past her limits.

He pushed her more than Kassy did.

Instead, he continued staring at nothing in particular.

“You alright?” she asked after they’d sat in silence for a few minutes.

Slip shrugged, but finally looked up at her. A question lingering in his eyes, but he didn’t seem to know how to thread it together. “How’d you know about Kelila?”

“How did I know about her?” she asked, confused as to the exact meaning he was searching for.

“Yeah, like… how did you know you wanted to be with her?”

Olivia leaned back on the stool, unconsciously crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, the damned woman wouldn’t leave me alone for starters.”

Slip chuckled. “That’s always a good start. When did you meet?”

“Two years ago at Cape Heritage, we started messaging back and forth. She was a guest lecturer for my FTL comms class. Why?”

Well, Kelila had started messaging her first, excited about the project Olivia’d been working on to get her degree. Kelila had wanted to help, offer her resources and after graduation, they’d just kept talking. One thing lead to another as they met up for coffee and suddenly Olivia had found herself leaning in to kiss the other woman, and Kelila had murmured _about fucking time_ right before their lips met for the first time.

Slip had the audacity to widen his eyes as if he didn’t understand her question. “Huh?”

“Cut the crap, why are you asking about Kelila.” She paused to evaluate him. The slight hunch of his shoulders, the lack of calling her out… there was definitely something on his mind, and with him asking about her romantic life… “You like someone?”

He flung his hands in the air and tilted his face towards the ceiling. “I don’t know, maybe. I’d be breaking all the regs in the book doing anything though.”

Breaking all the regs… Slip was talking about _Boomer._ Their Head of Marine Detail, Commander Lian Jones. All the late nights the two of them had, the deep respect in Slip’s voice whenever he talked about their HoMD. The fact that even on leave, they were in each other’s company. It was _Boomer_. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

He knew she’d connected the dots.

“You gonna request a transfer?”

He shook his head. “You don’t know this, but there’s a potential already in the works for Lian. Not for a bit, still got all this rebellion shit to sort out. But maybe then…”

“Maybe then,” she agreed.

Both men were too noble to break the regs. Too straight-laced. She could see Slip maybe going for it if Boomer really wanted it, but that would never happen. In that position, though… hell, she didn’t know what she would do. If she loved someone, staying away would be hard. Keeping those professional barriers intact, especially if she knew the feelings were mutual. Even if she was cursed, even if everyone she loved died, she was weak inside. She _wanted_ to be loved, to be with someone. To have some semblance of a family. Someone to wrap her arms around and hold her in return.

It was one of the things that had drawn her to Kelila. Just how much that damned woman refused to let her sit alone on her birthday, or spend her holidays in silence. How much she wanted to be there for Olivia. How she worried and all but demanded little check in emails twice a week, so she knew that Olivia was still okay.

Yeah, in Slip’s position, she’d have done the stupid thing and broken the regs, no questions asked. Especially if the feelings were mutual. Love was a hard thing to give up.

“We haven’t, you know,” he stated. Voice quiet, eyes closed, as if he was afraid of her judgment.

“I would have,” she answered simply.

He looked at her. “Maybe we need to be more like you.”

“I have a hard time seeing you being more like me,” she replied - and he laughed. “You’re not a shut in.”

“Neither are you, Sparks, you just haven’t figured that out yet.” He rose from the sofa. “You should probably call your girl, let her know you’re gonna be late.”

Olivia followed Slip to the door and, when he hovered at the exit, clapped him on the shoulder comfortingly. He returned the gesture before leaving.

Ten minutes later, just as she was stowing Henry away and getting ready to call Kelila, she got the message from Boomer Slip had said was coming. He also informed the team they had a meeting at 1800 hours to prepare for some Board Review tomorrow. A quick check of the time told her what she feared: she had less than thirty minutes to get to the meeting.

Honestly. A _little_ more of a warning would have been nice, though she suspected the blame for that didn’t lay at Boomer’s feet, but rather at some dusty Admiral’s. Probably one who hadn’t seen action in over a decade and was more concerned with the politics of a situation than actually handling it with any common sense.

Olivia closed the message and selected Kelila’s name off her list of contacts. Kelila was not going to be happy, and she’d make the face - the one that said _why again did I decide to date an Alliance officer?_ But she wouldn’t mean it, not like that. The two days delay though… Kelila’s ship would be flying in later that night. She’d be collecting their hotel alone, spending what should have been their first night together in two months alone.

“ _Hello darling,”_ Kelila greeted her. Her hair was pulled up in a big ponytail, a single tightly coiled curl dangling across her forehead. _“Wait, don’t tell me - you’re gonna be late. Last minute Brass-whatever-situation and suddenly you can’t fly in tonight. How close did I hit the mark?”_

Olivia bit her lip and grinned. “Bulls-eye.”

“ _Better than you?”_ Kelila winked.

“Absolutely not. No one hits the mark better than me.”

“ _Don’t I know it,”_ Kelila winked again, a mysterious smile on her lips, and Olivia shook her head.

“Terrible.”

“ _That’s why you love me.”_

“That’s why I _tolerate_ you,” Olivia correcter her, smiling to ensure Kelila knew she was joking.

“ _So when are you coming?”_

“First flight out day after tomorrow. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get my ticket transferred.” She made a note to get that switched first thing after the meeting. Her original flight was scheduled to leave in three hours. Not anymore. “Brass wanted to hold us last minute, I should find out soon why.”

Kelila wrinkled her nose in distaste. _“Guess that means Kass won’t be joining us later in the week then?”_

“Probably not. Those two days shorten her time with her brother in Germany. She’ll probably opt to stay the whole time, but I’ll check with her.”

“ _So who’s gonna keep me company tomorrow?”_

“You’ll have to find that ‘grit’ on your own. I gotta run already. Meeting,” Olivia made a face to denote her mood. “Call when you land.”

“ _I will. I love you, darling.”_ Kelila pressed her fingers against her lips and then held them up to the screen.

Olivia did the same. “I love you, too.”

-O-

Two days and three meetings later, Olivia finally made it to Elysium. Earlier than the flight plan had said, too. She checked the local time against Alliance time. Early afternoon for her, super early morning for people in the city. Kelila would still be sleeping - but when she woke up (or rather, was woken up by Olivia), they’d get to go for breakfast.

_Second_ breakfast. A day with the opportunity to eat pancakes twice guilt free was a good day. Especially since her fifth cup of coffee could conceivably be mistaken for her first. Resetting the slate on the caffeine intake judgment.

Olivia stepped off the transport shuttle, bag on her shoulder, and paused.

The view was breathtaking. Maybe there was something to the vacation idea Kassy had practically shoved down her throat after all. Though she’d never admit that to her friend. Admitting that would be saying she was wrong, and then Kass would expect her to go outside more often. To be more social. She didn’t _need_ to be more social. But this view? This view certainly didn’t hurt things.

Perhaps Elysium wouldn’t be that bad after all. Excepting the grit, of course. She fully expected that to be intolerable, made bearable only by a certain person’s presence.

It would have been better if Kass could have come, but at least Boomer and Slip had promised to try and drop by later that week. Provided they weren’t otherwise occupied.

Olivia secretly hoped they would be, and not because she didn’t want to see them but because she wanted them to enjoy each other’s company guilt free.

A marine slipped past her on the ramp, and, on a whim, Olivia called out before they had a chance to escape the port, “Hey, Nigalla!”

Nigalla halted and turned around - then smiled. “Hey Olivia. Thought we’d already parted ways!”

It’d been a pleasant surprise running into Nigalla on the transport over. Their company made the time pass quicker, and Nigalla wasn’t opposed to extended silences between conversation, which suited Olivia just fine.

“Would you snap a photo for me?”

Olivia posed at the edge of the docks while Nigalla lined up the shot. Once it was done, Nigalla lowered their ‘tool. “You could maybe look a little less grumpy, Olivia.”

“Just need photographic evidence I was outside.” She waved her 'tool over Nigalla’s and grabbed a copy of the photo.

Nigalla shook their head. “You wanna grab breakfast?”

“I’d love to, but I’ve got a date to meet. Maybe I’ll see you around, though?” She grabbed her bag from where she’d dropped it for the photo, and then sent the picture to Kassy with the caption: _I hope you_ _’re happy_.

“Not sticking here too long, just got some business.” Nigalla closed their eyes and breathed deeply before looking up at the sky. “Barely managed to squeeze this trip in. Heading back this afternoon.”

Olivia glanced up. “That’s pretty quick.”

“What can you do?” Nigalla shrugged.

Olivia nodded in friendly commiseration. “Good luck, then. And eat a pancake for me.”

Nigalla jokingly saluted her ‘order’, and Olivia waved goodbye before speeding off for the hotel, checking the address on her ‘tool. Close to the spaceport, but not on the small island so at least they wouldn’t have to constantly deal with the tram - and the traffic that came with it. Might even be able to avoid transportation altogether and walk everywhere.

Olivia certainly planned on it. Excepting this journey as she had her bag and the tram gave her a small opportunity to sit down, unburdened by its weight. Most of which was because of her rifle, stowed in the bottom of the bag. Kelila would roll her eyes at that.

The receptionist gave her a key to the room once she arrived and, a minute later, she was standing outside the door to their room. She gave herself a quick once over before heading in as quietly as she could, gently setting her bag down near the entrance.

The lights were off and the curtains closed. Olivia knelt down and removed her boots before tiptoeing across the room towards the bed where Kelila lay sleeping. She contemplated removing her dress, but her impatient desire to cuddle up won out and she slipped beneath the covers, tucking her head onto Kelila’s shoulder. Kelila breathed heavily in her sleep, a little noise escaping through her throat and Olivia smiled.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

Kelila murmured again in her sleep. Olivia rolled on top of her and, in a song-voice, said again, “Good morning!”

Fingers pressed into her lips, forcefully hushing her. “One more ‘good morning’ out of you and I’ll get my own room.”

Olivia whispered, “Good morning,” around Kelila’s fingers, though the words came out sounding more like _gohd mahnng._

“I hate you,” Kelila murmured. But the smile on her lips betrayed her as she pulled Olivia into a kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for the beginning of the end? 'Cause I'm not.

“So,” Olivia said around a mouthful of food, “I found a good thing about your destination choice.”

Kelila set her fork down. “Oh no, let’s hear it. It’s a tech shop, isn’t it? Or guns. Probably guns. Ah hell, it’s both. You found a two-in-one deal didn’t you? Shit.”

“If it was a tech shop, you’d want to come, too.”

“Not if it’s your hardware nonsense. I like my software, thank you.” She stabbed her fork at Olivia for emphasis. “I think you missed your calling.”

Olivia leaned back in her chair, pushing the plate away. “Engineer would have been fun, but damn do I love my sniper rifle and scouting. Finding the right perch and _bang,_ ” she mimed pulling the trigger, “taking out the target.”

Kelila’s expression grew serious. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.”

“So what kind of gun shop did you find?” Kelila asked, letting the matter drop.

Olivia grinned. “Sniper rifle modification shop that specializes in older Hahne-Kedar models.”

“So that’s why you brought Henry.” Olivia nodded even though it hadn’t been phrased as a question. Kelila shook her head in mock exasperation. “You’re on _vacation_ , sweetie. You should do fun things.”

Olivia pointedly ignored the suggestive eyebrow waggle as Kelila pointed at herself. Though she couldn’t entirely hide the blush. “I think you underestimate my love of Henry.”

“Clearly greater than your love for me,” Kelila sighed.

“Melodramatic.”

“Point of fact.”

“You ready to pay?”

“Not if you’re taking me to a gun shop, I’m not.”

Olivia waved her hand dismissively. “I set up an appointment for tomorrow. I’m all yours tonight.”

“Or maybe,” Kelila countered as she stood up from the table, swiping her chit over the built in scanner, “I’m all _yours._ ”

The night air on Elysium was chillier than Olivia was used to. Ships were kept warm, Arcturus was kept warm, and when she hit dirt most places, she was wearing an enviro-suit. Which was kept warm. Hell, Kelila lived on the warmest part of Terra Nova, right off the beach. Everywhere she went that mattered, Olivia was always warm.

Not that it was _cold_. She just wasn’t used to the breeze touching her bare skin in cool weather in anymore.

Warm arms enveloped her from behind. “They make these things called ‘coats’ you know.”

Olivia simply hummed in response. “I’ve got my coat.”

Kelila gently laughed and squeezed her arms around Olivia, brushing a kiss against the back of her neck. They strolled along the streets, taking in the view and content to succumb to a lazy sort of wanderlust. There’d be time enough for ‘grit’ later, which Kelila had begrudgingly agreed to save for the next day. Generously allowing Olivia the time to regroup and prepare.

Kelila already had a whole itinerary planned for the next day: no fewer than three museums _with_ tours, plus lunch and dinner reservations in between. And a ‘surprise’ for the evening. She’d even set a reminder on Olivia’s ‘tool to up the drama, and Olivia had rolled her eyes.

It was the surprise part of the evening that worried her. Kelila’s last surprise had consisted of a wild night out clubbing in the inner city near her condo. All the streets that Olivia never would have visited, and while she’d admitted to having fun but _only_ because Kelila was there, she _never_ would have done that on her own. Branching out wasn’t exactly her thing, and karaoke definitely wasn’t. Yet it was probably good she had a partner willing to push her limits and stretch those boundaries.

She really should get out more. Be a little bit less of a hermit.

Maybe Slip wasn’t so far off the mark after all with his comment the other day.

Kelila’s arms slipped lower, towards her waist. Fingers digging a little into Olivia’s hips and pulling her closer. Walking directly behind her must have been awkward, but Olivia wouldn’t change it for the world. Warm arms holding her close, giving her that sense of comfort she so rarely felt otherwise, warm breath on her ear and a cheek pressed against her head. It didn’t take long before desire tingled low in her belly, pooling hotly as Kelila’s fingers ran delicate patterns, the touch translating through the thin fabric of her dress.

“I’m gonna suggest something and I promise it’s not because I’m a hermit,” Olivia murmured as they turned on a street corner.

“Mmm,” Kelila gently urged. Fingers trailing just a hair’s breadth lower and Olivia shivered.

“It’s because it’s been months since we last saw each other.”

She was finding it harder to breathe as Kelila’s fingers slipped even lower. Not low enough to cause a stir if anyone were to look, but certainly lower than was decent.

Yet not nearly low enough by any standard Olivia felt should actually apply to the situation.

Impatience made up her mind, and instead of asking she grabbed Kelila’s hands and all but dragged the woman back to their hotel, finding it ever harder to keep her fingers off the other woman’s skin. Two steps into the elevator and she was on her tiptoes, crashing her lips against Kelila’s, reveling in the taste of her. Riding the skirts of her dress up just enough to elicit a moan of desire from her girlfriend when she pressed her hips into Kelila’s, one leg straddling against the wall and Kelila took full advantage of the situation, slipping a hand beneath Olivia’s skirts and she moaned in response to the touch. To warm fingers sliding against cool skin, gracing the edge of her panties, teasing.

They barely made it through the door of their room before Olivia was impatiently pulling at clothes. Either of theirs, it didn’t matter. Too many clothes in the way of skin sliding against warm skin. Too much fabric in the way of Kelila counting any and all new scars Olivia had acquired since they’d last gone to bed together.

Too much time and distance that normally separated them, so moments like these were treasures - and Olivia was impatient to live each and every one of them. To feel the emotions wash over her. She pressed her lips into the little hollow at Kelila’s neck and heard fingers squeeze against sheets as she trailed her kisses lower, worshiping Kelila’s skin. A dark tapestry of wonder against the cream-colored sheets. Kelila’s hips pressed up against her as Olivia settled just over her entrance and hands wound through her hair, holding her in place. Legs pressing over her shoulders in urgent need and Olivia slipped her own hand between her legs.

She pulled Kelila closer with her free hand, as if the distance between them when bare skin touched bare skin was still too great. Pressing her face between the other woman’s legs and touching her just how Kelila loved to be touched. Drawing out the pleasure while simultaneously wanting to drive her over the edge. To drive herself over the edge. Savoring the taste of her. The sounds murmuring in the back of her throat, the impatient way she pulled at Olivia’s hair until she dragged Olivia up her body and crashed their lips together. Replacing Olivia’s hand with her own and Olivia moved hers between Kelila’s legs.

And she kissed Kelila, whimpering into her mouth as Olivia started to peak and her whole body shuddered. She kissed Kelila through her own climax until the other woman found hers. Until they were well and truly spent, passionate kisses devolving to slow, luxurious kisses and then they fell asleep wrapped in each others arms.

-O-

Kelila’s head popped up from rooting around in Olivia’s bag. “Didn’t you pack a jacket?”

Olivia glanced over her shoulder as she straightened the bow on her dress. She wasn’t sure about this one, but Kassy had assured her that purple was her color. The purple didn’t bother her, she just wasn’t used to white polka-dots and bows around her waist. “I have my Alliance jacket.”

“Absolutely not.”

Kelila disappeared into the bedroom and Olivia returned to frowning at her appearance in the mirror. Perhaps she should start listening to Kassy’s advice and pack more than one outfit per day.

“I’m not sure about the dress!”

“A bow won’t kill you, and neither will polka dots!”

Picking up on what Olivia really meant, as always. “Alliance blue won’t clash too much!” she shouted.

A muffled curse was her only response until Kelila’s head popped ‘round the corner. “I’m letting you walk out of here with your combat boots on, darling. No Alliance jacket.”

Olivia turned around. “If I freeze then, it’s your fault.”

Kelila’s eyes sparkled as she smiled and fully entered the bathroom. “I’ll just have to wrap you up.”

As she spoke, she slid a white scarf covered in blue flowers around Olivia’s shoulders. Olivia arched an eyebrow as Kelila twisted the scarf in the front, ensuring that it would stay in place. “So my Alliance blue jacket is a no go, but a floral scarf that _doesn_ _’t even match_ is totally fine?”

Kelila smiled. “It matches your eyes. All the matching that needs done.”

Olivia didn’t even have a retort for that. So she wrapped her arms around Kelila, kissed her senseless, and then retreated from the bathroom to gather up Henry.

“Don’t stay too long, otherwise we’ll miss the early tour,” Kelila called, still lingering in the bathroom.

Olivia glanced back over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The morning air was brisk. Most of the city felt like it was still asleep and she could feel the appeal of rising early. And not just to watch the sunrise. The world felt as if it were holding a breath, just waiting for the perfect moment to let it loose and breathe life into the surroundings. Holding everything in a momentary stillness. She stopped off for a coffee to warm her fingers, sipping the beverage with one hand while she balanced the rifle case in her other.

It took her nearly thirty minutes to walk all the way to the spaceport shops, only cheating a little bit by using the tram to cross the river. The sun had fully risen by the time she found the street she needed, spotting the HK Mod Shop about halfway down the block. She slung Henry off her shoulder as she entered, and the door chimed as she passed through the entrance.

“Ahhh! Miss Shepard!” the shopkeeper greeted her, gesturing emphatically at the counter. His eyes glimmered. “New stock, right?”

She set the case on the counter and unsnapped the clasps. “Yeah, the one I currently have is getting a little worn.”

The shopkeeper bounced down to root in a cupboard then bounced back up with a few examination instruments, most of which she recognized from her tech shop days aboard Arcturus. He glanced up at her and she nodded before he removed the sniper rifle from its case. “You’ve taken very good care of this one, don’t see many models like this.”

She shrugged. “Going on four years here, soon. Haven’t found one I’ve liked more.”

“Either you’re picky or you haven’t tested many.” She remained silent on the matter. She _was_ picky, but she hadn’t really tested any other guns.

Henry worked just fine. More than fine, with the way she cared for him. She _had_ considered getting a shorter range rifle - or one that was capable of both long and short range. Henry was more long range, which suited her mission work aboard the Cold Harbor, but she was naive if she thought she’d be there for the rest of her career. Especially not if she wanted to make Special Forces, which she was beginning to think she did.

Much to Kelila’s dismay. Ah well, an argument for another day.

“Do you know which stock you’d like?”

“I’ve a few ideas, but I’d like to see them all, if you don’t mind. Get a good feel for them before I decide.”

The shopkeeper grinned knowingly before disappearing into the back and Olivia focused her attention towards the vidscreen in the corner, playing a news segment. Morning weather, sports… yada yada, stuff morning people liked to hear before starting their days.

The screen cut to static weather report.

Olivia frowned at it as the shopkeeper returned, babbling something about stocks and Hahne Kedar before he, too, noticed the static on the screen and joined her in frowning.

“Broadcast reception?” she offered.

“Not fucking likely,” he muttered, crossing the room to the screen.

Olivia raised her ‘tool to see if she could find the broadcast on the net. But there was… nothing, no connection. Complete signal loss.

Her gut tensed as she crossed the shop and peered out the windows, craning to see the sky.

Fate wasn’t that cruel, right?

She looked up the street and saw more than a few people standing around, shaking their wrists as if that would bring their connection back. A few others were staring at the sky, shading their eyes against the low-hanging morning sun. And that’s when she felt it. The reverb of a distant blast. A reverb she knew all too well, one she’d _lived_ through. One that still haunted her and chased her through her dreams.

It was a slaver attack. A _massive_ slaver attack if they were hitting Elysium.

…

_Kelila._


	3. Chapter 3

_07:11 Elysium Local, 14:35 Alliance Standard - Twenty-two minutes after the first strike_

Olivia ducked as debris from another missile flung into the streets. Most of it the size of small pebbles, but it blew up a cloud of dust that had her pulling the scarf up over her mouth just so she could breathe. That was the third ship to pass over the city, all focusing on the spaceport when they blew past, dropping missiles. That last ship had been a small one… She knelt onto the ground and removed Henry from his case, putting the rifle together as if Moravec were breathing down her neck during an exam. She set her fab unit to making a scam rail. Nothing with finesse, quick and dirty, but it would have to do.

She scavenged some metal nearby on the ground to use after the ‘tool cleared it with a compatibility rating of 83%, checking the sky every now and then, listening for the ship on its return pass. She weighed the consequences of a ship potentially crashing into the city. Eezo exposure if the core blew, but she mainly wanted to take the damn thing out of the air. Doing so would stop the missiles. Until enemy back up arrived, but that would still mean moments of silence until then. A fewer buildings exploding, fewer civilians mowed down in the streets as they ran.

What Olivia really wanted to know was why the city’s defensive systems weren’t firing. She hadn’t encountered any any ground troops, but she supposed it wasn’t too unlikely the slavers already had boots on the ground to take care of defensive systems, set up the jamming signal, etc.

If the ship did crash, at least most people were already fleeing the spaceport. Very few hotels here, which meant the likelihood of it catching civilians off guard were low. It still left a bad taste in her mouth, but the call had to be made - and there was no one else around her that she could see to make it.

The scram rail dropped out of her fab unit, still warm from processing and she switched out the high velocity barrel for the rail, then turned off the thermal sensors on her scope. She wouldn’t need it for this.

The roar of a ship approaching filled the air, and she quickly ran to the middle of the street. A guy almost knocked into her when she stopped. He didn’t even mumble an apology - and she didn’t blame him. Running for your life wasn’t exactly the best time to embody the core tenants of social etiquette.

Perhaps it was good she was still using a long range gun. She peered through the scope and spotted the approaching ship - a combat fighter, just as she’d suspected. Too bad it wasn’t a frigate. Taking out more slavers than just one appealed to her.

Though a frigate would require more bullets.

She measured the distance, lined up the shot - and then waited. She didn’t have to wait long before it was within range. It was flying low, even lower than before, and a cold smile spread across her lips. Flying so low spoke of confidence which meant there _were_ boots on the ground. The pilot was counting on zero resistance. She could fight boots on the ground.

After she found Kelila.

She aimed for the cockpit, accounted for the velocity of the ship, her lower position, and the wind - and then fired.

The ship jerked in the air, maintaining its speed - but now heading towards the ground. No missiles, no pilot ejection. She lowered her gun and stood, watching it as it disappeared below the line of buildings blocking her site.

A civilian stood gaping at her. A kid no more than eighteen years old. His omni-tool out and open, filming. “Holy shit!”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the hell off the streets,” she yelled.

Then she turned and resumed running back towards the hotel. Twenty minutes dodging gunfire and she’d only managed to cover three city blocks - and she was still on the spaceport island. She needed to pick up the pace.

 

_07:42 Elysium Local, 15:06 Alliance Standard_

The kid had run with her, filming with his ‘tool the whole time. When she’d asked him about it, he’d mumbled something about his journalism class. She rather doubted he’d have a journalism class once this was all over, but didn’t say anything. If it gave him something to focus on, and thus prevent him from freaking out, all the better.

Let the kid have his hope.

She was certainly clinging to hers.

More combat fighters were flying over the city now. Frigates too, dumping salvers onto the ground. On Mindoir, one cruiser had managed to land. Smaller than average and barely qualifying for the name, which she later learned was the only reason it had made it to the ground - and why so many people had either died or disappeared that day. Elysium’s gravity was higher than Mindoir’s. Unlikely they’d see a cruiser land - but considering the number of ships flying over the city, she didn’t think the lack of a cruiser on the ground was going to be a problem.

Olivia adjusted her rifle, having used the scarf to improvise a sling so she could run without dropping the damned thing in the process. Her case was long gone, and she was only peripherally worried that the scarf might catch fire if the gun overheated.

They’d yet to make it out of the spaceport district. A series of missiles had sent them running back the way they’d come, tripping over bodies lining the streets where they’d fallen once the ships started using their guns and not just missiles.

Now she had a new goal: the GARDIAN towers. At least a few interceptors had managed to take flight, blasting some of the slavers out of the sky. The number of good guys fighting the bad guys though was disheartening. There should have been more.

GARDIAN defenses would let her get back to finding Kelila.

“How many more are you gonna shoot out of the sky?” the kid whispered, sliding close to her.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, his own darting about as he tried to look in every direction at once. “As many as I need- GET DOWN!”

Instead of waiting for him to comply, she grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and slammed both of them to the ground just as an enemy combat fighter opened fire on the street they occupied. The windows above them exploded as bullets tore through the windows of the building and she yanked the kid underneath her, taking the brunt of the shrapnel to her face and shoulders, covering what she could with one hand while she held the kid down beneath her with the other.

Blood streamed into her eyes and her temples stung once it was over. She didn’t release the kid until the debris had completely settled. He was in a full blown freak out, ‘cause despite her covering him he’d still taken a hit to his omni-tool arm. She released his neck, ripped the bow off her dress, and wrapped it over the injury while attempting to talk him down. Without years of military experience under her belt, she’d probably have joined him in blubbering. A part of her wanted to as more blood lined her vision. She used her shoulder to wipe her face, ignoring the pain as pieces of glass fell away from her forehead. No time for it.

“You’re gonna be fine. The cut’s shallow, no major blood vessels were hit.”

The kid only nodded, staring at his arm.

“We’ll find some medi-gel, and you’ll be good as new. Then we’ll get out of here.”

He looked up at her, disbelief in his eyes. “How can you say that?”

She pulled him to his feet and repositioned her rifle - amazed it hadn’t taken any damage - before saying, “Because I said we would. And we will.”

 

_09:41 Elysium Local, 16:07 Alliance Standard_

“We can’t get into the damned tower with what we have,” Livus, the turian who appeared to be in charge of evac, explained. She’d finally found a group of people after finally making it across the river taking action. People who knew what they were doing, holding a street in front of a museum that, she’d learned, had a bunker below ground. “Too many slavers.”

Olivia assessed the street front and the trickling stream of people taking shelter inside the museum’s walls. “How’d they get inside?”

“Hell if I know, I’m museum security.” He jerked his head towards her rifle. “You good with that?”

“Took out a few combat fighters before they could do more damage.”

Putting civilians in a bunker was only a short term strategy. Eventually the slavers would figure it out, whether from capturing the wrong guy or simply following the live bodies didn’t matter. They needed a longer term solution, something to keep the slavers away all together. As far as she could tell, that plan involved getting the GARDIAN tower back under their control. Take out the ships before they could land. “We need to take back the GARDIAN tower.”

Livus shook his head, mandibles flaring in agitation. “Without communications, there’s no way in hell we can organize a guerrilla strike like that. My job is here - to get these civilians to safety.” He eyed her gun again. “We could use another shot.”

Olivia looked around the lobby. The kid was sitting in the corner with a doctor, getting his arm cleaned up. Still filming, of course. “You got tech parts or fab materials?”

Livus stared at her for a long moment. “Alliance, right?”

She nodded. “Second Lieutenant Olivia Shepard.”

“What are you gonna do with those tech parts?”

Olivia activated her ‘tool, compiling a list of components she’d need to do what she wanted. “Create an ad hoc comm system so we can talk to each other and get that fucking tower back into our hands.”

She knew that she was coming off as fixated on the tower - but without defenses, they were screwed. She knew it and, judging by Livus’s expression, he knew it, too. He stared at her some more, and she stared right back. Keenly aware of the severe height difference but not backing down. “Supply cabinet. Treyal’s got the keys.”

 

_11:56 Elysium Local, 18:26 Alliance Standard_

Olivia had never been more grateful as the moment when her small strike team ran into a group of Alliance marines engaging a group of slavers. The marines were pinned behind a few ground vehicles shot to hell, more than a few bodies lining the streets in between.

She hunkered down at the corner of the building, assessing the situation. Her strike team of three might just be enough to tip the balance of power in their favor, provided they played their cards right.

“Shepard, what the fuck is that?”

Olivia redirected her eyes to where Njola Shawler - the youngest of the guards - was pointing. She bit off a curse. “That’s bad news. We need to move fast. Njola, Clarke, when I say go, you run across the street and get behind that siding there. You see it?”

Clarke nodded.

“Reyes and I will provide cover fire. We’re going to take _that_ out.” She jerked her head at the rocket launcher the slavers had started putting together. A goddamned fucking ground launcher, as if the combat fighters in the sky weren’t enough.

Perhaps she’d done more damage than she thought taking them out with Henry.

She counted down from three, shouted, “Go!” and pushed out of cover, keenly aware of the lack of shields as she aimed and fired - and then a barrier surrounded her. She spared a glance for Ayla Reyes, and saw the woman hunkered a few feet behind her, pistol in one hand and her other raised. She hadn’t been aware Reyes was a biotic.

The asshole putting the launcher together fell at her hit. The marines took advantage of the cover fire and jumped out, coordinating their attack now that they had back up. Olivia counted the three seconds it took for her gun to heat cycle, having not bothered to switch out the scram rail for a less heat intensive mod. No time in the field to switch on the fly when a combat fighter appeared out of nowhere. Those precious seconds could mean the difference between another missile fired or a dead enemy pilot.

She didn’t bother moving position now that she had the protection of a barrier, keeping her rifle trained on the rocket launcher and as soon as she reached zero, she fired again - directly at the enemy weapon.

The scram rail and short distance made short work of the launcher and it exploded.

“They made it, Shepard!” Reyes shouted from behind her.

Olivia slammed back into cover and opened her ‘tool.

Two could play at the enemy ballistics game.

With the remainder of her material reserves, she fabricated a crude but explosive tech mine and, checking that Njola and Clarke were providing fire just as she instructed, lobbed the grenade directly at the slavers.

The effect was immediate, producing the mayhem she’d desired and the marines cleaned up the remaining slavers with relative ease. She still got in three more kills before all the baddies were down.

Reyes straightened and started up the street towards the marines and Olivia grabbed the woman and yanked her back down. “You check it’s clear before you paint a target on your forehead.”

Reyes licked her lips. “Sorry.”

Once Olivia was sure it was clear, she stepped out and headed towards the marines. “Sit rep?” she asked briskly.

The Staff Lieutenant approached her, judging by the pips on his collar. “This street’s secure. For now.” He eyed her dress. “Who are you?”

“Second Lieutenant Olivia Shepard, Systems Alliance,” she replied, eying the street behind and then ahead of them. “You on a mission Lieutenant or holding this street?”

“Staff Lieutenant Neil Walker,” the man said, “we heard civilians were making for the museum. Some kind of bunker?”

Olivia stabbed her thumb behind her. “About a mile that way. The head of security, Livus, is overseeing the evac. I’m heading to the GARDIAN tower.”

Walker looked at her again, taking in her gun and blood crusted from half a dozen shrapnel wounds. Nothing serious. Yet. “You a sniper, Shepard?”

“Infiltration Ops Division, sir.”

“TAKE COVER!” One of the marines shouted and Olivia saw immediately why: a combat fighter was on approach.

She immediately knelt in the middle of the street while everyone else but Reyes scattered. Reyes set up a biotic barrier around them and Olivia lined up her shot, estimating the speed of the ship and, after breathing out to steady herself, pulled the trigger.

The ship sputtered as her bullet hit the engine before crashing into a skyscraper. The building exploded spectacularly, far enough way to not present a danger to them.

“I’m sure fucking glad we ran into you,” Walker murmured just off her shoulder. “We might just stand a goddamned chance if you can paint the skies with slaver corpses. The tower you said?”

“Color them a little, at least,” she responded. “And yeah, the tower.”

He shaded his eyes against the sun. “It’s about ten blocks east. Though we’re not gonna wanna use the fucking main entrance unless we want bullets sprayed up our asses.”

She thought for a moment, mentally analyzing a situation for which she didn’t have visual data. “Is there another way in?”

“Basement entrance on the north side, but it’ll take a while to get it open if they put the building on lockdown.”

“Alright, let’s move out.”

 

_13:11 Elysium Local, 19:45 Alliance Standard_

The tower was a fucking crater. Olivia ordered a retreat back to the evac center so they could reassess their options.

 

_14:59 Elysium Local, 21:35 Alliance Standard_

“Ships have landed at the space port,” Olivia told Walker as they stood just inside the museum. Livus had provided them with a paper map of the city. One made for tourists, but it would work well enough for their purposes.

They’d managed to set up a good perimeter, but the number of people trickling in had diminished drastically. She pointed at the bridge up the street. “Good choke point if we can secure the other two bridges.”

Livus joined them on the sidewalk.

Njola had taken a bullet straight to the head on their way back, and the turian had taken the news hard. Olivia suspected a familial connection between the two, judging from the way he’d received the initial news.

“The bridge has got a tram system, controlled from the other side,” Livus said.

“So we knock out the power to it.”

This day was increasingly trying her patience and resilience. It felt longer than Mindoir already. Maybe it was. She hadn’t been in the right mind to track time when she was a kid. She also hadn’t spent the entire day fighting the enemy, running from them instead.

Not today.

“What did the scout say?” Walker asked.

“Seven frigates made it to the ground before Alliance combat fighters appeared, balancing out the playing field in the sky.” She pointed in the direction of the space port. “No comms with them unless they check their light speed systems, but I’m not banking on that before taking action. Alliance reinforcements aren’t numerous, though - and two more enemy ships have already touched down.”

“That’s a lot of slavers on our turf.”

“Which is why we need to hold this bridge, and secure the other two.”

“Throttle them,” Walker nodded. “I’ll split my marines into two teams. One for each bridge.” He looked at her. “Easier to just blow them.”

“No,” Olivia replied. “There could still be civilians trying to get out of the space port, and they’ll need an avenue for exit. Your men will need to co-opt anyone capable of holding a gun to make that possible. Besides,” she jerked her head at the bridge in front of them, “this one is the main access to the city. The other two only go to shipping districts.”

Livus nodded. “Shepard’s right, Walker.”

“This bridge will be the focal point, we’ll just have to keep their attention.”

Olivia stepped towards the door and held her scope up to her eye. The scarf was starting to dig into her shoulder, but the relief it provided from constantly holding her rifle outweighed her desire to be rid of it. Besides, the scarf was Kelila’s. She couldn’t just set it aside.

She spotted movement on the other side of the bridge, counting at least twenty slavers on their way in. “They’re here for the collection part of the op, but they’re gonna hit hard first and worry about capturing people alive later.” She steeled herself, keeping the boiling rage in the pit of her stomach. It was becoming ever clearer to her that this op had been planned with brutal efficiency.

Walker grunted, but Livus was the one who spoke up. “We’ve still got civilians on the streets, coming in. This isn’t a strong position.”

“Can’t hold the museum,” she agreed. “Too many points of entry. Not that it would matter.”

Livus stared at her, mandibles twitching in a calculating way. After a moment, he said, “If they can’t get the cargo, they blow it.”

“Only if they get past us.”

Walker spat on the ground. “Shit.”

Olivia shrugged. “So we hold position on the bridge.”

“Just like that?” Walker asked. “Hold position.”

Olivia checked her ammo block. Sitting at 47% full. The rest of Henry was doing fine, resting against her chest in the makeshift sling she’d composed out of Kelila’s scarf. She mentally shrugged her last memories of Kelila from that morning away. “Yes.”

 

_16:33 Elysium Local, 23:13 Alliance Standard_

Olivia felt like she’d been on the bridge for hours. Sweat ran down her neck and her skin burned under the sun. Blood that had dried hours ago mingled with dirt and sweat all over her body. Her dress was in ruins, and she hadn’t even been hit by any bullets. Just shrapnel, rocks, pieces of whatever that had exploded nearby. One of the straps had completely torn free when a grenade went off too close to her position and sent her flying backwards into Reyes.

She’d broken a rib from that blast, she was sure of it. No time to dress the wound, though. Not much to do for it anyway aside from hope that it was a clean fracture and a bone wasn’t pressing its way into her lungs.

They’d lost four marines from that grenade alone. Nine in total, plus Clarke. On top of that, one of the other bridges had been reduced to rubble by a combat fighter. A bridge with civilians on it.

Yeah, she was pissed. But she needed to channel that anger into a sharp focus, otherwise she’d get herself killed.

She halted their slow advance across the bridge and pointed at the tram duct. Two of the four remaining marines moved in, breaking the glass wall to set pressure mines inside the shaft.

“Reyes-” she started, but then her omni-tool beeped. Comms weren’t back up were they?

She activated her ‘tool - and her heart caught in her throat. Elation and surprise quickly evaporating into dread as she realized the message was an automated reminder from Kelila, not a live chat. A reminder for their ‘surprise’ and coordinates to a location where Olivia was supposed to go.

She closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldn’t afford to think of Kelila, not right now. Not when so much had come to depend on her.

But good god if this one little message didn’t rend her heart in two.

Lieutenant?”

Olivia swallowed again and took a deep breath before opening her eyes to see Reyes standing in front of her, a question on her brow. “Get ready to advance.”

Reyes nodded.

Moving up brought them to the furthest line of slaver bodies. Olivia ordered another halt and while the marines repeated setting mines in the tram shaft, she knelt next to the closest batarian corpse and searched him for a radio. She found it attached to the inside of his helmet and ripped it out.

“— _liance reinforcements just arrived in the system, grab what you can and get the hell off that planet!”_

Olivia grimaced in disgust. The voice was distinctly human.

When the marines regrouped around her, she gave them the news. “Alliance reinforcements have arrived in full. This op’s timeline is limited - but that just means the slavers will push all the harder to get their cargo before taking off.” She looked at each of them in turn. “We will not let that happen.”

“No, ma’am,” Corporal Harper replied.

She grabbed the walkie from its little pouch in her scarf-sling. Another reminder of Kelila and she shoved that thought down. Now that the end was conceivably in sight, her mind wanted to stray to her stupid, lovable, stubborn woman. “Walker, we’re going on the offensive. Can you get a team to the base of the bridge, museum side?”

“ _Affirmative. Good hunting.”_

 

_17:05 Elysium Local, 23:47 Alliance Standard_

Olivia pulled herself out of the water, frantically looking around. Her head was pulsing in pain and she wasn’t sure if she’d gone deaf or not. Ears ringing as the sun glinted off the water, blinding her. She crawled to the shore, biting off a curse as her stomach brushed against rocks and sand and when she looked down, she saw why: three huge gashes tearing up her right side, terminating at her breast.

She looked up where the bridge had been - and was no longer. At least not this section.

Frustrated at the resistance, the slavers had chosen to blow the bridge - and the order had come through her stolen comm too late for them to run more than ten meters. Not far enough to get to cover, to get away. Barely far enough for her to survive, though that was more dumb luck than anything else.

The order had come not ten seconds after she’d removed Henry from his scarf-sling.

She whipped her head back to the water, eyes searching. Rocks, bodies, debris… where was her gun? Where was Henry? _Where was Kelila_ _’s scarf?_ She splashed back into the water, searching, ignoring the searing pain in her side, unwilling to let go. Not this, she couldn’t let go of this.

There was was so much she’d had to let go of already in her life, god let her have this. This one prayer, because if she found that stupid fucking scarf, she’d find Kelila.

_That'_ _s how it worked._

That was the deal.

A sob tore through her, threatening to break her when she finally found the damned thing, and she cradled it to her chest. Sitting in the water for a solid minute, face tilted towards the sky as she let it out before she remembered to check if her gun still worked.

Didn’t even need to activate her omni-tool to start a diagnostic to see it was crapped. Beyond crapped. The computer chip was completely fried and the scram rail was broken off at the tip, having shattered part of the barrel in the process.

Of fucking course that’s how this would end. Start the day with promising rifle modifications, end it with a dead rifle. Most likely beyond repair.

It wouldn’t be the same even if it was fixed.

She shouldn’t have removed the scarf.

Olivia ripped the scarf in half, using the longer portion to bandage her ribs after searching the nearest dead marine for a tube of medi-gel and applying it to the wounds. Deep, rending wounds that would leave scars. The gel stung briefly before numbing the pain and sealing the opening until she could get to a medic, leaving behind a searing rage in her veins. A cold rage and she glared up at the road, grabbed Henry even though he was broken and slung him over her shoulder. The sling much tighter now, but big enough to get her arm through.

Then she methodically searched the dead marines for scraps she could use to fabricate grenades or tech mines, checking their guns until she found a serviceable assault rifle and two pistols. Olivia also collected their dog tags, slipping them around her neck and tagging their bodies on her ‘tool so she could find them later. Provided she survived.

Her plan had certainly gone to shit but that made her all the more determined to succeed.

 

_19:41 Elysium Local, 02:27 Alliance Standard - The Blitz ends_

With her bridge in ruins, Olivia had set out for the last standing bridge two kilometers away. Killing slavers as she encountered them and redirecting civilians back the way she’d come. Designating people to put in charge when no one stepped forward, reassuring them that with the bridge down it was unlikely slavers would return there. They were leaving the city, not going back to it. Not with the Alliance reinforcements in the system.

A few offered to go with her, and those she armed with her pistols. Anyone who didn’t have a weapon of their own once she’d done that, she rejected.

Through sheer force of will, she made it to Walker’s position at the south bridge.

Through sheer determination, she kept everyone that had volunteered to come with her alive. Together, they stopped every slaver that tried to cross the bridge. Some of them dragging strings of potential slaves behind them, chains around their arms and shock collars around their necks.

It made her burn inside. And she checked every face to make sure it wasn’t Kelila’s. She couldn’t afford to lose another person to slavers. She also couldn’t afford to think about that in the moment, or it would destroy her.

When Alliance ships finally made it to the spaceport, the battle ended shortly thereafter. Troops of marines honed in on their position shortly, and it didn’t take long for the rest of the slavers to flee.

With it all finally over, she itched to return to her hotel. It was _over_. No more shooting, no more fighting. No more surviving. That had to account for something, had to mean something.

But the Staff-Commander in charge of securing the situation detained her with the rest of Walker’s marines and the few civilians who’d stood with them.

“Who’s in charge here?” the Commander asked, eyes already sliding to Staff Lieutenant Walker, noting the pips on his collar.

But Walker shook his head and pointed at her. “Second Lieutenant Olivia Shepard,” he said through clenched teeth.

The last leg of defenses had seen him take a bullet to his shoulder, and one of the medics was already dressing his wounds. Olivia had waved the one who’d tried to get to her ribs away. The medi-gel was holding, she’d survive. What she _needed_ was to get to the hotel.

The Commander arched an eyebrow. “Second Lieutenant Shepard?”

Olivia saluted even though her arms burned. Limbs finally succumbing to the hours of use now that she was no longer moving. Good god she was tired.

All the more reason she needed to get out, get back to the search while she could - otherwise she’d fall on her face and never get back up. She had to _know_. Good god, she had to.

The Commander moved in front of her, and she held her salute. “At ease, Shepard,” The commander said, “Staff-Commander Anderson, but Anderson will do. No need for formality after the day you’ve just had.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, relieved to let her arms fall back to her sides.

“You weren’t on duty here,” he said, noting her dress.

“No, sir.”

“How’d you come to be in charge?”

“I saw what had to be done and I did it.”

Walker inserted himself next to her, grunting at the pain of movement, the medic following him with a pinched frown on her face. “Shepard did more than that,” he said. “If not for her, we’d all be fucking dead or worse. Hell of a sniper and a hell of a gal.”

Anderson’s eyebrows threatened to climb off his face as he listened to Lieutenant Walker list off everything she’d done, with no small degree of respect in his voice. It made her flush in embarrassment at such praise. He made it sound as if she were the linchpin that had held the whole op together, which wasn’t true.

When Anderson asked for her input, she said, “You’re only ever as good as your team. We had a hell of a team.”

“With a hell of a leader,” the Commander added. Then he turned back to his own team. “Alright, we need to set up a medevac. Are comms back online yet, Rodriguez?”

“Bravo Team just reported in, they found the jammer. Communications should be back up in a few minutes. Provided the network doesn’t immediately clog up.”

When they were, Olivia almost wished they hadn’t. The first thing that aired across all the networks, displaying on every screen, was a video of her from that morning, shooting down the first combat fighter with nothing but her sniper rifle. The kid had found a reporter, and the reporter had found a story.

-O-

Once Commander Anderson finished debriefing her, her impatience growing thinner by the minute and not _just_ because she wanted to get back to the hotel, but because more footage of her from the kid was being played, she was finally free to start her search. The kid had stuck with her a good while in the beginning and there was plenty for the media to latch onto and paint a story about a war hero defending the colony.

The only plus she saw from the media was that somewhere out there Kelila might be watching it, too. Would know that Olivia was still here, still with her. That she’d made it.

Commander Anderson had insisted on accompanying her, and when it became apparent he wouldn’t argue the matter, she assented. He’d inquired as to the reason, and all she’d said was, “A loved one,” and he’d put his second in command in charge and left with her. Not questioning the field-bandage on her ribs, the torn dress, the broken rifle and the multiple wounds decorating her body making her appear like a walking wreck.

Olivia knew her single-mindedness on getting to the hotel might have struck him as obsessed - but Anderson also seemed to understand. Knowing why she looked at every body the passed on the street. She had to know. And despite resisting his company in the beginning, she was grateful he was there now, because she felt like she was about to lose it. The longer she went without a message, without any indication.

She wouldn’t cry, not now. Not when she was so close.

Her omni-tool pinged and she closed her eyes as she lifted it up, stopping in her tracks. Anderson halted a few steps ahead and looked back.

She had messages. Several messages, all from Kelila. She skipped to the last one, heart falling at the time-stamp dated several hours ago. Her throat closed up as her finger hovered over the play button and she clenched her hand into a fist. She knew, oh god she knew what it was.

It’d been sent too long ago.

Olivia glanced at Anderson and saw that he’d averted his eyes, studiously examining the street ahead of them in his best attempt to give her privacy while still making himself available should she need it.

She steeled herself as if she were gearing up for a mission, squared her shoulders, and hit play.

“ _Olivia, I love you, I love you oh my god I-”_

“No,” she whispered as it cut off, and she replayed the message, staring at Kelila’s face as the woman ran, looking for slightest indication that it was wrong, that this was wrong. It had to be wrong! It _had_ to be! “NO!”

“Hey, soldier,” Anderson said gently and she felt a a hand on her shoulder, unaware that he’d crossed the meager distance between, and as his arm settled around her, she lost it.

She ripped her omni-tool off her wrist and flung it down the street, all the emotions she’d kept in check throughout the day, all her hopes and dreams she’d bottled away for safe-keeping exploding out of her. Her scream tore through her whole body and she fell to her knees, Anderson coming with her and holding her to his chest, preventing her from beating the ground with her fists. She screamed until she couldn’t anymore, until her throat was raw. Until she had no energy left in her body to spend, nothing left to give because everything had been taken from her.

Until the only word she could say was no, because the world couldn’t be this cruel to one person.

But it was.

It was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elysium has a day length equal to 27.9 earth hours, or 1674 earth minutes (and a year length of 1.5 earth years). Since that was all the information given, and for the sake of evenly divided hours, I broke the day cycle down like this:
> 
> 1 Elysium day = 27 hours, where 1 hour = 62 minutes, and 1 minute = 60 seconds (earth standard).
> 
> Unlike the galactic calendar, there is no matching date between earth and council events (see my [post here](http://bioticbooty.tumblr.com/post/117757971545/bioticbooty-you-know-youve-gone-too-far-down) where I delve into Galactic Standard time compared to earth time), so I set my own and measured discrepancies from there.


	4. Chapter 4

Second Lieutenant Olivia Shepard, the Hero of Elysium. The woman who single-handedly stopped the Blitz.

Or so the media said.

If she’d _truly_ stopped the Blitz, no one would have died. No one would have been taken and the toll of the missing wouldn’t number in the hundreds. But the media - and everyone else, it seemed - didn’t see it that way. They saw the numbers saved. The numbers that could have been taken and weren’t. They saw the people who said she’d rescued them, had saved them. They saw the images and the videos and photographs and the civilians and they made up their mind about her. They painted her in gold and claimed her a hero. The Alliance awarded her the Star of Terra. Hers was the face of salvation.

Every media blast started with the video of her kneeling in the street, shooting the first combat fighter out of the sky. They ended with a picture of her once the Blitz was over, saluting Anderson as he asked who was in charge. Bloody and war torn painted as brave and resolute. A crowd of survivors behind her, celebrating their lives.

They ignored the people that had helped her, others who deserved the recognition just as much if not more so than she. People like Clarke and Reyes and Njola. People like Walker and Livus, who helped the civilians get to the bunker. Everyone who’d taken up a gun and fought, risking their lives so that others might live.

Olivia tolerated the attention, if only just, until they found out about Kelila.

It had taken every last little bit of self-restraint to not deck the reporter who first said Kelila’s name. Face blanching, knuckles white as she clenched her firsts and the other Alliance rep with her had recognized the signs and cut the interview short. Some bullshit line or other so as to protect her from negative attention.

Marines protected their own, against the media above all.

After she’d recovered from her melt-down upon first receiving the messages from Kelila, Anderson had helped her find the body. Kelila’s ‘tool had still been live, so locating her had been easy with the network back up. Once Olivia recovered hers from the street where she’d thrown it.

Olivia’s fingers had shook once she found her, lying in the street. Tears she hadn’t thought she’d had left in her to cry silently streaming down her face. She deactivated Kelila’s ‘tool and brushed the hair out of her face, pressing a kiss against her cheek. Artificially warmed by the sun, making it feel almost as if she were simply sleeping and all Olivia had to do was kiss her awake.

Except life wasn’t a fairy tale.

She’d held Kelila in her arms until Alliance clean up crews arrived. Anderson sitting with her, acting like the father she’d lost in a similar event. And to keep herself from losing her mind, she’d told him her whole story and he’d listened with a hand on her shoulder. Not offering any words, because there was nothing anyone could say to someone so broken that wouldn’t sound hollow. Just listening, because that’s what she needed. Someone to listen and supply her with the strength she didn’t have.

Anderson had protected her from the prying ears of reporters, as had the marines on the ground doing clean up. Respectfully giving her the space she needed to say goodbye.

But she hadn’t. She couldn’t.

Which was why she found herself at the Skyllian Blitz Memorial a week after the battle had ended. Her ribs still bandaged and Kelila’s scarf wadded in her hands. She sat down on the grass in front of Kelila’s headstone, grateful for the perimeter of marines around the Memorial allowing her and others the chance at a private moment. Grateful for the no-media rule that’d been in effect since the Memorial’s creation.

Olivia laid a lily to rest on the grass in front of the headstone. An orange lily, because it had been her favorite. She brushed her fingers against the petals and if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was the other woman instead. That she wasn’t alone as she sat there.

“I guess my relationship with Henry is over,” she joked, finally breaking the silence. Voice shaking as she smiled, imagining Kelila shaking her head. Kelila had never wanted the gun broken.

Olivia was silent for a while longer, unsure if she could continue. So she repositioned herself, leaning against the headstone instead of addressing it. Imagining for a moment that she was leaning against Kelila instead of cold, hard stone.

“I miss you,” she breathed. “I don’t know how to get through this. I don’t know if I can.”

Kelila would balk at that, telling her she could do anything she set her mind to. Indomitable will, built to be a marine.

More like forged by life to be a marine than built for it.

She pressed her cheek against the stone, closing her eyes against the tears as they spilled over. “I’m sorry I failed you.” And, because she knew Kelila would object, she steeled herself and said, “I did. I failed you. Maybe the first time on Mindoir was just bad luck, losing everyone. I couldn’t find Jill but I wasn’t trained for that. I was just sixteen. And I… I never told you about Jill, but she was my little sister. My beautiful Jilly-bean, and I lost her to slavers. Just like I lost you. Except I should have been able to save you. That’s why I joined the Alliance and became a marine: to save people. To save the ones I love from tragedy. But I can’t even do that, can I?”

She picked up the lily and stared at it. “I was never worthy of your love, but you gave it to me anyway. And I failed you.”

Olivia sat with Kelila till dusk in silence. Letting her go as best she could, as best as Olivia was able to. Saying goodbye because it was everything Kelila deserved. For Olivia to face her life head on and give her love a proper goodbye, because Kelila was worth everything and more. Still, even in death. Because she’d fallen in love with a cursed woman and had paid the price.

“I’ll live on for you,” she promised.

An empty promise, but it was the best she had to give. How she could live on after this she didn’t know, but she would try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, you beautiful readers. And I'ms sorry for the pain I've inflicted - but if it makes you feel better, know that I cried like a baby while writing this and then each time I came back and edited it.
> 
> I hope you've all enjoyed this story! And I promise fluff in the future to make up for what I've done.


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